


Penny for your thoughts (Or maybe even a Dime)

by clickyourheels



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Defeated Harry Styles, Depressed Harry Styles, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past abuse Harry Styles, Worried Louis Tomlinson, larry stylinson - Freeform, this is short and sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23056855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clickyourheels/pseuds/clickyourheels
Summary: Harry is depressed. Louis is worried. Analogies involving cold showers ensue.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! This is short and sad, but I hope you enjoy it none the less! Sorry in advance for any mistakes/typos! 
> 
> Follow me on twitter :) @_lovelikeharry

The thing is, Harry was actually sort of okay. He wasn’t this severely depressed, broken doll the media made him out to be; most of the time he was okay. 

The thing the media most liked to pick apart was Harry’s aversion to physical touch; Harry had read countless articles over his stiff gait during signings, the way he would freeze up when a fan tried to hold his hand. He wasn’t being rude, and it wasn’t as though every time he received physical affection he had a sudden flash of PTSD, he just felt kind of awkward. He didn’t know how to reciprocate that affection. It was one of the things Harry was most envious of Louis about; the way love came so simply to him.

Louis was raised on pinched cheeks and ruffled hair from his grandparents, forehead kisses and endless cuddles from his mother, wide smiles of approval and words of affection from his stepfather. He was brought up wrestling with his brothers and being a dummy for his sisters to practice makeup on, playing dress up with his cousins and giving piggyback rides to his baby nieces and nephews. He had ‘Family Night’ every Wednesday wherein everyone would snuggle up on the sofa and watch Disney movies and eat crappy takeaways. He was ultimately raised practicing the art of kindness and affection, love being his religion of choice.

Harry was raised on broken glass and spilt whiskey and raised voices and purplebluegreenyellow jaws, tutted responses and exaggerated sighs and shaking heads and fleeting glances. He was raised on placing a chair in front of his bedroom door at night as it was the only way he felt it was safe to sleep. He was raised on loneliness and fear and the taste of wet hot salt dripping down from his clouded gaze. He was ultimately raised by himself. Harry didn’t know how to love. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. 

Louis isn’t an idiot, he knows he was raised in an overly affectionate family and that not everyone is as clingy and affectionate as he is. But he also knows it’s not normal for someone’s eyes to stretch so wide and their breathing to begin to quicken when someone goes in for a hug. Louis knows Harry isn’t broken, he just thinks he’s a little worn.

The sad thing is, Louis can see it. Can see the way Harry looks over at him when he’s sat in Liam or Niall or Zayn’s lap, can see a flicker of a smile when Louis blows him a kiss, can see how despite his lack of knowledge surrounding love and expression, wants to understand so badly, desperately wants to touch, to hug, to cry into someone’s neck and be shushed with soothing back rubs and promises of tomorrow. He just doesn’t know how to ask for it, doesn’t know how to respond to it.

Louis decides he’s going to fix Harry.

—————————————————————

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Louis asks one day, when he and Harry are all alone on the tour bus, the other 3 boys having gone to explore the city and their driver nowhere to be seen. He can see the hands of the younger boy’s mind clock ticking with every second that passes. It’s tauntingly loud.

“Make it a dime and I’ll think about it,” the Cheshire boy teases, though with little conviction. The telly in the lounge is on, but he isn’t watching, instead staring up at the ceiling; Louis can see the tendons in his neck straining against the porcelain skin, and he wonders how the hell he can be comfortable in such a position. Then again, maybe he’s not. Maybe that’s the point.

“Tell you what, pretty ‘thang, I’ll even pay you a buck a minute just to find out what’s goin’ on in that sweet lil’ head o’ yours,” retorts Louis in a sceptical transatlantic accent.

Harry snorts, “How very droll,” he chuckles, before biting his lip, not looking away from the ceiling.

Louis waits a good minute, reading the boy’s body language and knowing he wants to say something. If there’s one thing he’s learnt about Harry, it’s that he doesn’t always need advice or physical reassurance. He just needs to know someone is listening.

“It’s like,” he begins, in a small voice. “If everyday, since you were born, you were forced to shower and bathe with water so cold it felt like ice. It would hurt you. Blister you. Burn you, even. At first there’d only be pain. It would consume you and you’d beg for it to stop. But over time, you’d grow used to the cold. It would be all you knew. That blistering, burning cold would be normalcy to you. And it’s not good for you, and you know that. Water so cold can cause heart attacks from the sudden drop in temperature, your body wouldn’t be able to compensate. And there’s the hypothermia, the pneumonia. You know in your head it’s doing more bad than good, but you can’t feel it. To you, you just feel numb. And so you welcome the cold.” 

Louis blinks, in shock. This is the most he has heard Harry speak in weeks. He stills, too scared to even breathe in case he makes Harry feel uncomfortable or judged, so he just listens.

“And also,” Harry’s voice is slow. Thick, like treacle, and it’s like all sense of emotion has vanished. Like he’s devoid of anything that once made him Harry. Like he’s welcomed the cold. “If someone, one day, were to offer you a warm shower, you’d be so afraid. Because you know it’s normal, but you have no idea what ‘normal’ feels like, or if it’ll fuck you up, because it’s not normal, not to you. And taking that risk is too scary because if you do take that warm shower, and it’s everything you ever wanted, your worst fears will come true.”

“What ‘worst fears’?” Louis whispers.

Harry looks at him then, eyes almost black, lips chapped and parted in a bittersweet smile that tugs at Louis’ heart. 

“That what they did to you was never normal. That they did it to hurt you. That all that time you confided your trust in what you thought to be something normal. And it was never normal. And yet, after everything, you still miss the cold.”

Harry stands up, cracks his neck, and walks to the bunks, leaving Louis with tears streaming down his face and hands shaking so badly he can’t even wipe them away. Because while Harry’s worst fear is being proved right, Louis’ worst fear is being proved wrong. 

Louis’ worst fear is not being able to fix Harry. And Louis’ worst fear just came true.

And so Louis welcomes the cold.


	2. Void.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I tell you, will you promise to forget?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn’t going to carry this on, but I got a few requests so here I am!
> 
> This is just a tiny preview of the upcoming chapter, which will be trigger-heavy, so be warned and stay safe.

You say I’m strong.

You say it like it’s a good thing.

I don’t want to be strong.

I want to be weak.

I want to be held.

I’m so fucking  _ sick  _ of being strong.

I want to tell you. I won’t, but I want to.

I scream, and no one hears.

No one hears.

No one ever fucking hears.

  
  


+

  
  


If I tell you, will you promise to forget? 


End file.
